


constant as a northern star.

by thewriter8



Series: turned out i'd been following him and he'd been following me. [1]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: cuties in love who have taken over my life, random headcanons; basically precious because i can't make these two tragic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 21:32:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriter8/pseuds/thewriter8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See, Cecil has this thing. I mean, of course he has many things, many many things, most of them great things, most of them things Carlos would love to write home to his father and sister and high school bully about if he could obtain stamps or pens or a will to forgive any of those people.<br/>But Cecil has a thing where he cannot fall asleep unless it is after 2:22 AM.</p>
            </blockquote>





	constant as a northern star.

**Author's Note:**

> just a bunch of adorable/worrisome/bizarre headcanons of these two cuties. i hope some strike a chord with you.

Sex hadn't happened yet, but sleeping together was different than sex, especially in Night Vale. Sleeping together was very different, Carlos noted, and continued to note the more he slept with Cecil. Old Woman Josie stopped him outside the Arby's one day, Carlos just wanted to try their new kettle chips, that was all, and she stopped him with her trio of angels and they surrounded him and he felt warm and buzzing and like he had strep throat all at the same time, and she stopped him and stared at him with her bespectacled squinting eyes.  
And she said, "You and Cecil are sleeping together?"  
And he said, "Uh."  
And one of the angels said, "It has been confirmed."  
And he said, "Uh. Did Cecil say...something? On the show or?"  
Old Woman Josie smiled her wrinkles at Carlos, and he managed a skeptical, perhaps terrified grin because he just wanted kettle chips, not a conversation because conversing was hard, especially on a day he hadn't prepared to talk to anyone but Cecil. She gave his lab-coatted arm a pat and murmured, "Make sure to capture the moment he first falls asleep."  
She left, the three angels carrying her purse, large diet soda, and paper bag of curly fries. And Carlos watched her go, realized he was standing in the middle of the parking lot without angelic protection, and walked to his car. The chips were very crisp, but overly seasoned.  
\----  
There was a day about six months after the sandstorm that made Carlos question everything. Well, more than he already did.  
He was on a dinner date with Cecil. They ordered telepathically, and didn't ask what the other had gotten. Dinner arrived--wailing artichokes for Cecil, glowing fruit salad for Carlos--and Cecil didn't give Carlos a chance to touch his napkin. Swift as nothing human, Cecil grabbed Carlos's fork, rammed it into the table with enough force that it vibrated tonally, and picked up his own steak knife, pointing it directly at the scientist.  
Carlos had enough time to blink.  
"Uh. Cecil?"  
"Tell me why you're here."  
"To. Get dinner. To eat it. With you." Carlos stared at the still-wiggling fork, wondering which Night Valean custom he had missed this time.  
"How long have you been here?"  
"In the restaurant?"  
"Shut up," Cecil hissed, leaning over the table, the side of his knife against Carlos's wrist, "I mean in Night Vale. I mean in Carlos's apartment. I mean in my bed."  
"Cecil, what is going on?" Carlos remained still, but he wondered if Cecil could hear his heart speeding up.  
"You ordered the fruit salad."  
"Yeah...Is that uh. Bad?"  
"My Carlos is allergic to strawberries." And something broke behind Cecil's eyes, something childlike and awestruck, it broke and shattered and Carlos saw a Cecil he never wanted to see again. He looked down at his radioactive bowl of fruit instead. He saw little red slices of strawberry and was more surprised by them than he was by the knife still pressed against his skin.  
"I am, you're right. Then... why did I order this?"  
Cecil stared and continued staring, and then he tossed his knife on the floor of the restaurant, clattering and sliding. No one seemed to notice. "What did you do to him..?"  
"I...I'm Carlos, Cecil." He said it with little confidence because how could he be sure now, really, because Cecil was right, Cecil was always right, Cecil knew Carlos would die in ten minutes if he consumed that salad and he stabbed the fork into the table to stop him, just in case, just in case this was the real Carlos, and what was Carlos thinking, of course he was the real Carlos, but then why would he be stupid enough to order something with strawberries, and that was where his insecurity was hiding, right there in the bowl, and even after they talked it out, Cecil quizzing Carlos for the better part of an hour, even after Carlos sent the salad back and reordered something that wouldn't kill him, even after all that, Carlos tasted strawberries on his tongue.  
Cecil caught him once, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, repeating 'I am not my double' like a spell, like a mantra, like a promise he had to believe in, no matter how much strength it took. And Cecil started saying it too, but not in front of a mirror, of course. He started saying it when he forgot what he was doing. He started saying it during the weather. He started saying it whenever he wondered if he was even still real, because Cecil was positive being fake or the only person in the universe was better than being his double.  
\----  
See, Cecil has this thing. I mean, of course he has many things, many many things, most of them great things, most of them things Carlos would love to write home to his father and sister and high school bully about if he could obtain stamps or pens or a will to forgive any of those people.  
But Cecil has a thing where he cannot fall asleep unless it is after 2:22 AM. And in some weird way, or in some normal way because everything weird had become normal long ago, Carlos knew Old Woman Josie wasn't telling him to capture the moment Cecil fell asleep for sentimental reasons. He knew she had told him that because it was probably standard issue for relationships in Night Vale. Hell, it could be a law. Carlos could be breaking a law by falling asleep before Cecil every night. He wasn't sure how Night Vale wanted him to capture Cecil falling asleep, but he'd be damned if he neglected Old Woman Josie's words.  
So he drank coffee. He listened to Cecil's show. He told Cecil to come on over, wonderful broadcast, by the way, I uh, really liked the story about the fire grass. He drank more coffee. He opened the door for Cecil. They sat on the couch, Carlos in a tee shirt and 'I heart Night Vale' boxers, Cecil shedding his studio dress clothes like a snake around Carlos's apartment. He listened to Cecil talk about the new intern the studio hired. He drank more coffee.  
2 AM arrived. Cecil stood, stretched, then offered Carlos a hand, tugged him off the couch. "Dear Carlos, you're usually asleep by now, considering how early you have to be in your lab."  
"I'm not that tired tonight."  
"I see that. You've been er. Drinking a lot of coffee."  
"I like coffee."  
"Me too." Cecil smiled, as if that little commonality was a Nobel Prize to him. Carlos cleared his throat.  
"But uh, I think I'm ready to go to bed now. If you'd like to stay."  
"I'm so glad you asked."  
\----  
They had only been in bed together for a week, not having sex, still no sex, which was fine with Carlos, he never knew how to initiate shit like that anyway, but Cecil was making it more and more difficult because, good lord, Cecil was attractive and he could read the ingredients off of a bag of gummi bears and Carlos would want him.  
But there was a night during that first week of sharing a bed that Cecil asked questions like a machine gun firing.  
"Do you have a mother?"  
"She passed away when I was 8. I-"  
"Do you have a father?"  
"I don't speak with him right no-"  
"Do you have a pet?"  
"Uh, n-"  
"What are some of your hobbies?"  
"Science experiments, cross-"  
"What size shoe are-"  
"-stitching..."  
"What?!"  
Carlos wasn't used to how quickly Cecil moved. Then again, Cecil seemed to follow a different speed than everyone else. Another one of Cecil's things that could be great, or, in the case of driving or eating or occasionally sex if they ever had it, not so much.  
But Cecil moved, fluid as mercury, from the crook of Carlos's shoulder to slap his hand over Carlos's mouth. Cecil's voice was so quiet Carlos barely heard it a few inches away.  
"They will find you if you say that word. They will find you if you say it again. Now, Carlos, I need you to tell me where all of the things for that particular hobby are, and I need to dispose of them in the morning. I will dispose of them, because I do not want you prosecuted for this." Cecil removed his hand tentatively from Carlos's mouth, the latter licking his lips and taking a deep breath.  
"I'm not going to ask why..."  
"Wise decision. All the Sheriff's Secret Police said was that it was dangerous. A very dangerous hobby."  
And Carlos nodded, because what else could he do? He failed to come up with a reason why a stitched gift for Cecil reading 'Station Sweet Station' could be dangerous (same goes for his matching swatch reading 'Lab Sweet Lab', but let's not talk about that), but he let it go. He let it go, told Cecil the 'supplies' were in the closet, and fell asleep, and let Cecil's too-fast heart give him pleasant dreams.  
\----  
But the coffee didn't work. Carlos fell asleep within ten minutes.  
He woke for work bleary-eyed and frustrated at 5 AM. He massaged his neck, tousled his hair, was pleased that his alarm hadn't woken Cecil. It was one of his only days to sleep in.  
After a shower, more coffee, and a bland piece of crumbly toast eaten over the sink, Carlos was ready for work. He turned to grab his keys, and was happy this wasn't a fragile skin day, because he would've literally just jumped out of his.  
"Sorry. Did I er. Frighten you?" Cecil asked, figure half in the darkness of the hallway, but Carlos could still make out his own shirt hugging Cecil's torso.  
"I'm just upset I woke you." Carlos said, moving closer. Cecil looked embarrassed.  
"I actually didn't really sleep. At all."  
"What? Is it my bed? We could uh. Stay at your place tonight, if your garbage disposal isn't still coughing."  
Cecil smiled like a newly adopted dog. "My garbage disposal is still sick, and it's not your bed."  
"Oh. Did you have uh. Bad dreams or?"  
"Well...I stayed up...Oh, Carlos, it's quite embarrassing..." Cecil crinkled his blushing nose, looked down at the carpeted floor. One side of Carlos's mouth lifted, ever fascinated by the inner workings of Cecil.  
"You don't have to tell me. But I'm sure it's not that embarrassing."  
"Oh, but it is," Cecil chuckled, deep and shaky, "I've never been good at it. I'm sure you're wonderful at it. And besides, it's probably too early in our relationship to even think about-"  
"It's not." Carlos interrupted. In a rare moment of bold physical contact, he brushed the hair from Cecil's eyes, placed a hand against his hip, was so grateful the Cecil never expected from Carlos, because it's not that Carlos didn't want him, didn't want to touch or be touched by him, it's just difficult, really, it gets difficult to know when things are okay and communication has never been Carlos's thing.  
It still wasn't Carlos's thing, because Cecil wasn't talking about sex. More on this story as it develops.  
\----  
He had to drive out of Night Vale one weekend to buy some supplies for his latest research. Cecil told him to bring him back a cheap souvenir for his desk. Carlos grinned, kissed his cheek, and drove away, kicking up enough dust that Cecil walked around with dirt on his slacks the rest of the day.  
Carlos knew he didn’t have to drive far. He just didn’t want to tell Cecil where he was going, because he had a feeling Cecil would never forgive him.  
He bought his supplies in Desert Bluffs, and noticed that the strained smile given to him by the cashier was more unnerving than any smile he had ever seen before. He couldn’t find it in himself to politely grin back.  
He spent the night in a small bed and breakfast. He slept dreamlessly for the first time since moving to Night Vale. He realized he hated it.  
After a rushed make-your-own-waffle breakfast, Carlos walked to his car, ready to return home. He could feel Night Vale literally and figuratively tugging on the lapels of his lab coat.  
And then his car wouldn’t start. And Carlos began to feel nervous.  
“Hello, friend!” came a voice and a tap on the passenger side window. And Carlos was very grateful there was an entire car between himself and the man staring at him with not quite a smile, not quite a frown. Carlos continued to stare at him.  
“Car trouble?”  
Carlos nodded once.  
“Mind popping the hood? I know a thing or two, nothing special, but anything to help a newcomer!”  
Carlos very nearly didn’t do it. He thought about trying to start his car again and running the man over. He thought about leaving the car and sprinting to Night Vale on foot. But his hand moved, and the hood thumped open.  
He stayed in the car. The man talked and talked and talked the entire time. He gave the battery a jump, and the car started right up.  
“I refilled your oil too, friend. You’re free to go!”  
“Uh. Thanks. Do I owe you something for the uh. Oil, or?”  
“Not at all, no charge! Drive safe out there.”  
Carlos did. He returned to Night Vale in no time at all. He gave Cecil a hug and a little plastic cactus and didn’t mention Kevin whatsoever.  
\----  
"Carlos."  
He responded with a large snore.  
"Carlos."  
Another, but this one more jolting than the last. Cecil frowned, having been staring at him for the last half-hour. He gently nudged Carlos's chest with his head.  
"Wh-Cecil, what-"  
"I missed it."  
"Huh?"  
"I told you, I'm no good at this, it's so embarrassing..."  
"No good at...Miss what?"  
Carlos couldn't make out much in the darkness, mostly because he had been passed out, always falling asleep first, because if Carlos had a thing, that would be it. But he could see Cecil's eyes, staring directly at him.  
"Will you...tell me?"  
"Tell you what, Cecil?" Carlos asked, stroking Cecil's back as gently as he could with a sleep-numbed hand.  
"Tell me... the moment you fall asleep." Cecil noticeably cringed, as if admitting this would get him fired. Carlos stared, then chuckled, hoarse and pleased.  
"I can't tell you when I fall asleep." And Carlos nearly sat up in bed, turned on a light, because he could feel shame and disappointment radiating off of Cecil.  
"I...understand. I'm so sorry I brought it up, Carlos, I knew it was too early in our relationship to even talk about this, I'm such a fool-"  
"I can't tell you when I fall asleep," Carlos interrupted, twining Cecil's fingers with his own, "because I'll be asleep. So I uh. Can't talk. I'd love to, if I could."  
"You...you'd tell me?"  
"Sure. Actually," Carlos turned his head, resting it against Cecil's, "Old Woman Josie was telling me it's very important to capture the moment you fall asleep."  
Cecil's body grew hot to the touch. "That seems a bit forward of her..."  
"How? Cecil, I think I'm missing a Night Vale thing." Carlos played with their latched fingers. He felt Cecil's smile.  
"It's very...romantic to capture someone slipping into sleep. The moment they succumb and yield their body and mind to absolute entropy and chaos, a dream world. It's beautiful to witness and capture such a vulnerable state," Cecil murmured in his radio voice at first, then, dropping into a slight whine, "but with everyone I've ever dated, I miss it every time, or it freaks the guy out, or he just says 'thank you', or-"  
"It's not going to freak me out. And I promise to 'capture' you falling asleep too, once I can manage to stay awake long enough, and once I figure out how to capture it." Carlos admitted with a chuckle.  
"Oh no, Carlos, you don't have to return the favour. I would never expect that of you. I am content."  
Carlos kissed him twice, the second time much deeper than the first, before drifting off.  
Cecil wasn't about to miss his window of opportunity again.  
\----  
Because Cecil made Carlos want to tear down buildings or flood towns with tears or climb four thousand mountains because Cecil felt so much more than Carlos ever fathomed possible, and because Cecil felt all this, it bubbled and roiled in the air and Carlos inhaled it, let it simmer in his lungs until he felt it all too.  
Carlos loved it the most when Cecil was angry, especially at Steve Carlsberg, because when Cecil was angry, he was sexy.  
Well, sexier than usual.  
He slammed open the door to the lab, shouting Carlos's name, letting it echo down the halls, searching him out, demanding his presence. And Cecil got what he wanted, because Carlos was mutually entangled, enraptured, devoted to Cecil.  
"What's happened?" Because this wasn't the first time Cecil had slammed into the lab, interrupting Carlos at work. This time, the scientists were testing mild luminescent substances. Carlos didn't get a chance to tell Cecil he had spilled some of it on him before Cecil had him against the wall.  
"He sent a letter-"  
His hands clutched at Carlos's coat, tongue sliding across his, Carlos's head tilted sharply up to compensate for Cecil's height.  
"-to the station during the weather-"  
Carlos gasped as Cecil's teeth traced his jawline, leaving little marks behind like hand-stitching.  
"-and I was so upset by it-"  
Cecil untucked Carlos's shirt with ease, nearly snapping the button threads.  
"-that I completely ruined the sign-off." His hands slowed, his mouth stilled, and Carlos breathed heavily, taking Cecil's head in his hands. The fire had jumped to another acreage, straight down Carlos's throat, and Cecil was left raw and smoldering. "I ruined it, Carlos...All because of Steve. Carlsberg."  
"Do you want me to confront him about it?" Carlos whispered against Cecil's lips, buzzing and consumed by Cecil's anger, Cecil's passion, Cecil.  
"No...Don't fret. I'll er. Let you get back to work." Cecil's eyes slid down Carlos's body. Carlos blushed like mad.  
Later, in the darkness of his studio as he pre-recorded sponsorship advertisements, Cecil noticed his hands were glowing. He smiled, and his teeth glowed too.  
\----  
And then sex happened one night, after a typical date and a typical bought of pillow-talk. Carlos stared up at his ceiling, then at his bedside clock, calmly reflecting 11:57 PM.  
There was a small shift in Cecil's energy, Carlos noted, and he looked down. He felt his breath slow for once, then heard the smallest of wheezy snores.  
Carlos checked the clock again. He waited one more second to make sure this was all real. And then he knew this was it. He knew this was the moment he had been cultivating for months, months since he got Arby's chips, months since he felt an angelic presence, months since he panicked about saying the right thing, because Cecil always seemed to know what to say and Carlos sometimes didn't have the strength to talk to himself but Cecil made it all so easy, easy as breathing, easy as it should be, which was why sex wasn't difficult, it was simple, which was why sleeping together wasn't ever an issue.  
Which is why Carlos leaned over, lifted his hand, and plugged Cecil's nose.  
Cecil snorted, woke with a start and a stutter. He sat up, stared at Carlos, and kissed him as wholly and gently and perfectly as ever before, and ever since. Their smiles pressed together, and Carlos chuckled.  
"I captured it, then?"  
"You captured it perfectly."  
\----


End file.
